


So Old In My Shoes

by BelaLugosi



Series: Disarm [2]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Established Relationship, M/M, Protective Simon Snow, Simon Snow Loves Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Standing up for themselves, fluff?, head to head, or heart to heart, whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:53:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24605740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelaLugosi/pseuds/BelaLugosi
Summary: Simon and Fiona have a little head-to-head.  Or is it heart-to-heart?  What's the difference, anyway?
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Disarm [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1778779
Comments: 7
Kudos: 80





	So Old In My Shoes

The cigarette smoke is thick in here. I know she’d normally crack a window or clear the air with magic, but she’s trying to intimidate me. It’s not working (this time).

“I’m not going anywhere, Fiona,” I say, firmly. I practice my best Baz-posture, pushing my shoulders back, chin parallel to the floor. 

“Oh, I’m fucking well aware of that, Chosen One,” she snorts. “At least now we know that Basil just wasn’t trying his hardest, eh? For a while I worried your idiocy might be rubbing off on him, what with you sharing a room so long.”

I want to yell at her. I want to _go off_. I don’t. She’s just picking at old wounds, after all. Instead, I push all the tension of my unsaid arguments back between my shoulders; I let it help me sit straighter. She probably knows that trick (she probably taught it to Baz, who taught it to me.) 

“I’m not going anywhere because I don’t want to,” I reply. “And I’m not going anywhere because _he_ doesn’t want me to.” 

Her jaw shifts, just slightly. Does that mean the same thing as it does when it’s my boyfriend’s face I’m analyzing? Who knows?

“Time will tell,” she says coolly.

I _do_ groan a little at that. “Time _has_ told. It’s been years; we’re getting married!” It takes me a moment to compose myself. “Baz didn’t even want me to come here, today. He thought there was no way you’d be reasoned with.” I don’t tell her that he thought that because he believed she had _already_ accepted me, just liked the pretense. I was almost to the point of believing him, but then she’d spelled me red to match my wings for a whole fortnight after this last Christmas, and that didn’t _feel_ like pretense. I couldn’t leave our flat for days. I missed classes - nothing Baz or Penny did could reverse it. I am still sore about it, clearly.

She shoots me a smirk. “He’s smart, that one.”

I huff a laugh. “You’re definitely not wrong. Smartest person I’ve ever known.” I can’t help but smile thinking about him, and I can see that she can’t either. “I’m told that’s the Pitch side. That you’re all ‘insatiable consumers of knowledge.’ He makes sure to point out that it’s different from me being an insatiable consumer of pastries.” Fiona’s smile grows at my comment.

I take the opportunity. “The Mage was a despicable person,” both of our smiles fall a bit, but she doesn’t stop me. “I was just a kid when he came to get me from care. I’d only ever really known what it was like to be alone and different and hungry. He showed me a place where I fit in and could make friends and be cared for,” I sigh deeply. I hate talking about this. I’ve talked about this endlessly; first with Baz and Penny, and then a few therapists over the years- Merlin and Morganna, I’ve even spoken briefly about it with Malcolm Grimm - but I’ve never told _her_ and she deserves to hear it. “I was blind to the awful things he was doing. I didn’t even really see what he was doing to _me_ , mostly because I didn’t want to. But I know now - Fiona I’ve known for years now. He was more than just an unfair leader, or a power hungry villain. He was a murderer. He killed Baz’s mum and tried to destroy her legacy at Watford and on the Coven, caused Baz to be Turned, gave me up, let my mum die… He sent me into dangerous situations time and time again since I was _eleven_. He tried to kill me and Baz and Penny and Agatha.... He did kill Ebb.”

I notice Fiona’s face soften, just a little. 

“She was like a mum to me,” I say with my voice sounding rough, like I’m going to cry. Fiona waves her wand and mutters something in French - the air clears. 

“Thanks,” I catch my breath. “I would never have followed him so long had I known, and I am always going to be ashamed for not knowing sooner. It should have been obvious. Baz is always telling me I’m thick.” I chuckle a bit. 

Fiona nods; there’s another half smile on her lips. "I’ve heard that about you.” 

I roll my eyes, feeling fond, despite myself. 

“Look, Chosen One,” she starts. “I know you know all that.”

“Good,” I tell her, my voice growing a little stronger. “Then know this, as well,” I meet her eyes with my own, trying to convey the honesty of what I am about to tell her. “I am going to do everything in my power to keep my fiance safe and happy for the rest of my life. No one will _ever_ get the chance to hurt Baz like that again.”

She smirks and then frowns deeply. “Like that? Pretty words, Chosen One, but you forget; they can hardly Turn him again, or murder his mother.” 

“There are countless ways to hurt a person who loves as deeply as he does.” I bite my lip and fidget with my ring. “Someone could take you from him, for a start.”

“Are you promising to _protect me_ , then, Snow?” She sounds offended (which makes sense. Fiona is a badass in her own right).

I smile up at her, “Sure. But somehow, I doubt you’ll ever need my protection.” 

She nods, satisfied (maybe amused).

“I was thinking more along the lines of me not wanting to be the one who takes you from him,” I confess. 

“You couldn’t,” she interrupts.

“I just don’t want to be the reason you don’t call or visit him as much, Fiona, or beg off on holiday dinners and such. I don’t want to get in between you two, or cause you to fight.”

“So break it off,” she tries, but there is something in her voice that tells me she’s not serious. She is trying to see what I’ll say. 

There’s only one thing I _can_ say, though. “I can’t do that. I won’t. Tried that once, when I thought it was what was best for him, and it was a disaster for both of us.” I shudder, thinking of the months leading up to our trip to the United States and the weeks after. “I learn from my mistakes,” I shrug, partly because she and Baz both hate that. “I’m here until Baz orders me away. I’m just hoping you’ll do the same thing for him. Can we call a truce, please? I’m not asking you to _like_ me. Just stick with him _despite_ me.” 

Fiona rolls her eyes so hard I think she can see old Pixies albums floating around in her brain, and lets out a pained groan. “I like you just _fine_ , Chosen One.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Yeah?”

“Don’t read too much into it, alright? I made my peace with you two shacking up _ages_ ago.” She’s not making eye contact, just speaking to the hand holding her cigarette.

“You did?”

“Crowley, you _are_ thick. _Yes_ , Snow. I just like taking the piss.” _That’s_ when she looks at me, the same mischief gleaming in her eyes that reflects in Baz’s when he’s attempting to hide a laugh from Penny. He’s only ever willingly open with me, usually. But he’s getting better.

I don’t want to think about how hard he’s going to laugh when I tell that smug, posh git that he was right. _Again_. He doesn't need the ego boost; bloody thing is already higher than dragon-dick. 

Fiona is already shaking the levity away, though, as she pours herself (and only herself) a cup of tea. “Always knew you had the stones, though.”

Um. “Excuse me?” I ask, reaching for a cup for myself.

“You’re moronically brave, coming to me like this. Just to save Basil from the mere _possibility_ of an upsetting side effect of your engagement. As though you’d ever be rid of _me_ so easily.”

I grin at her, genuinely, for the first time in recent memory.

She continues, ignoring my expression. (On purpose, probably.) “You’ve grown up a lot, Simon.” I can’t recall if she’s ever said my first name before. Just my first name, not the expletive that _Simon Snow_ becomes when accompanied by a Pitch-brand sneer. “You and Basil both.”

“I think we all have, probably.”

She scoffs. “Hardly.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing. Come yell at me about it on Tumblr if you want.  
> https://belalugosiisdead.tumblr.com/


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